


Damned If You Do

by toasterpop (auntbijou)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Arguments, Character Death, M/M, Sex, Violent situations, War, a bit of Weasley-bashing, impossible people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:22:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1767052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auntbijou/pseuds/toasterpop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war was over and the dust settled, Harry Potter took a year off to get his head together and decide what to do with his life.  Some of his friends and family weren’t happy about that, and others adjusted.  When he returned, it was with a renewed sense of purpose, and the realization that the life that had been dropped into his lap wasn’t necessarily the one he wanted.  He said yes to the Auror Academy, and no to the marriage with a proper witch.  In taking a different path, Harry found that while you can’t please everyone, pleasing yourself only works when you know what you’re looking for in the first place.  And maybe it isn’t a proper witch, but a very improper wizard he needs after all...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue:  One Last Task...

 

Harry Potter stood over the body of Albus Dumbledore, studying the quiet still face for a long moment. The Leader of the Light and Defeater of Grindlewald looked peaceful and at rest. There was no sign of the havoc he’d wreaked in the lives of those he led, no hints of the missteps he’d taken for “the Greater Good” in the elderly face, and Harry sighed.

Of course, there weren’t. 

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and the most powerful wizard of his time, had been human... and fallible. There were no signs of the chaos he’d created in Harry’s life practically from the moment he’d been born, and Harry really hadn’t expected to see any. Taking a deep breath, Harry slipped the Elder Wand out of the arm holster Malfoy had given him and looked at it thoughtfully. 

It vibrated against his fingers and he smiled ruefully. “No,” he said softly. “This is where you belong. When I die, you’ll be free.” 

There was no mistaking the joy he sensed from the wand, and his smile, though still tired, became more genuine. Feeling better about his choice, Harry leaned forward and tucked the wand back into Dumbledore’s folded hands. 

“There were so many things you could have done differently, old man,” he said softly. “So many things that, if you’d just bothered to think it all through, you might have realized they were rather cracked. But it’s done, and it’s over. I’m going to live my life the way I want, and no one’s going to have your sort of control over me ever again. I swear it.” 

He wasn’t sure, but it almost seemed like he was surrounded by a glow when he said that. Must have been a trick of his very tired eyes. Overcome with fatigue, Harry knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, so with a yawn, he turned away from Dumbledore and the Elder Wand and left the quiet tomb, heading outside and into much fresher air. 

Three people waited for him and he smiled tiredly as they came to him. “Ready?” 

“Let’s do it,” said Ron grimly, pulling out his wand. 

Hermione and Draco pulled out theirs as well, and Harry turned to face the tomb, his own holly wand raised, and they cast the spell to seal the tomb. Three goblins separated themselves from the shadows and looked up at the four teenagers. 

“Our bargain?” Harry asked, hoping he didn’t sound as exhausted as he felt. 

“You have ended Voldemort,” said Lugnot. “That surpasses the bargain you made with the Goblin Nation. We will seal and ward the tomb so that no one... no one may enter it.” 

“Not even by Apparition?” asked Hermione shrewdly. 

Lugnot looked insulted. “When goblins say no one may enter it, they mean by no means at all,” he said coldly, then looked back at Harry and held up a thick silver key. “However, we give this to you, Harry Potter, so that you alone may enter and retrieve what you left, should you ever need it. It will be keyed to the ward and work only for _you_ , to allow you access.” 

“I won’t need it,” said Harry firmly. “Ever.” 

Lugnot studied him, then bowed his head. “If that is what you wish.” The key vanished in a burst of silver mist. “We shall seal the tomb... completely.” He gestured to his companions, and they spread out around the tomb, pulling boxes from their pockets that they set on the ground and enlarged with the staffs they’d been carrying. The tops of the staffs began to glow, and it was only at that moment that the teenagers realized the staffs were topped with large crystals. 

Hermione would have stayed to watch, fascinated by the process, but Malfoy gently caught her elbow and tugged at it. “Come on, Granger, Weasel’s probably starving, and Potter looks like he’s ready to drop. The goblins know what they’re about.” 

“But, I’ve read that goblin wards are incredibly complex, and I’m sure the process is _fascinating_...” she began, but Ron caught her other elbow, glaring at Malfoy over her head. 

“You know they won’t start until we leave, Hermione,” he said reasonably. “Goblins are a bit secretive about their magic and only let those they trust witness it. And you can’t blame them, not really.” 

“Well... no, but we’ve _proved_ we can be trusted,” she began, and Malfoy snorted. 

“No, not yet,” the Slytherin said as he caught Harry when his knees began to wobble and subtly supported him as they walked. “We kept our side of the bargain, and Harry’s made his offers to the Horde, but... we haven’t sworn vows. If and when we do, _that’s_ when they’ll trust us.” 

“Oh,” said Hermione, and she sighed, a hint of fatigue finally creeping into her voice. “It’ll all be so interesting...” 

“Yes, utterly fascinating, get a move on, I have no intention of sleeping on the _ground_ when there are perfectly good _beds_ available in the castle,” Malfoy said snottily. 

Harry grinned sleepily. It was all so familiar, Malfoy’s snark, Hermione’s curiosity, and Ron’s strained patience... he’d gotten so used to it over the last two years. He looked at them as they made it into the castle and headed for the stairs, watching these friends of his as they supported each other up the stairs. If anyone had told him fifth year that he’d end up being friends with Draco Malfoy, and even more important, that he’d convince Ron to get along with the Slytherin, he’d have told them they were barking. 

Ron wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist and pulled him up. “Malfoy, why don’t you help Hermione. She’s more mobile than Boneless here.” 

“He’d better _not_ be boneless,” Harry heard Malfoy mutter, and he couldn’t help snickering. 

“No,” said Ron good-naturedly before Harry could open his mouth. “Just no. I love you, mate, but really. I don’t want to know.” 

“Fine,” Harry huffed. It wasn’t like he and Malfoy had actually done it, but Ron didn’t want to know. And Harry really didn’t want to discuss it, either. 

Finally, there was a bed. A wonderful, lovely bed, with a thick, soft mattress, and lovely clean sheets and blankets, and _pillows!_ He would have dived right in, but someone was haughtily telling him that he wasn’t getting into the nice clean bed in filthy clothes, or with his shoes on, and all he could do was nod and flap his hands uselessly as he was magically stripped down to his skin. Someone who sounded vaguely like Madame Pomfrey may have been involved at some point, because he was sure he heard her voice, and the tingling sting of the cleaning charm that rushed around him, followed by pajamas, had her feel to it. He didn’t particularly care, because all he wanted was to face-plant into the pillows. 

Cool sheets surrounded him, a pillow mashed under his cheek, and Harry was out, sleeping the sleep of the just, with no dreams to trouble his rest. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was written as part of the April 2014 Rough Trade challenge, hosted by the gracious and wonderful Keira Marcos. One thing about her writing, it worms its way into your head and sets up residence. Her canon becomes _your_ canon. I tried very hard when writing this to _not_ use her canon, but let's face it, Keira's HP world has pretty much incepted its way into my brain. After a couple of chapters, I gave up and just let it be. So, if you see similarities between my world and hers, that's why.
> 
>  
> 
> _And once again, thank you, Keira, for helping me get my writing mojo back!_


	2. Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes...

 

He’d slept nearly three days straight, hidden away in the infirmary with his friends after the final battle, only waking long enough to shuffle to the bathroom, then crawl back under his blankets to sleep again.

It had been hunger that had finally awakened him, and it was while he was eating a breakfast provided by enthusiastic house elves that Harry become aware of a problem. 

He had absolutely no clue what he wanted to do with his life. 

Up until that point, his sole goal had been ending the threat of Voldemort forever, making sure the snake-faced bastard could never return and hurt the ones he loved ever again. And he’d done it, he’d made sure every single one of Tom Riddle’s horcruxes had been destroyed, including the one in his scar, and good old Neville Longbottom had taken care of the one in Nagini. And then he had watched Riddle destroy himself. And after that was done, and he’d slept himself completely out, Harry came to realize that he had made no plans for what to do after. 

What does one do after achieving a lifetime goal at the advanced age of seventeen, especially when one didn’t expect to actually survive achieving that goal? 

What had brought the problem to painful prominence during what was otherwise a lovely and most delicious breakfast had been the discussion he slowly became aware of that was going on between Professor McGonagall, Madame Pomfrey, Molly Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and three dark-robed men who just had “Department of Mysteries” stamped all over them. And the discussion had his ears pricking up the moment he heard the words, “Young Harry will be coming with us, of course. He’s magically exhausted, as demonstrated by his three day coma, and he’ll need to have his magical core examined, to be sure it’s sound...” 

“Actually,” he heard Kingsley’s deep voice say, “I had planned on asking Mr. Potter, as well as his friends, Ron Weasley and Neville, to help round up the rest of Voldemort’s followers.” 

“Nonsense!” Molly Weasley said huffily. “Harry will be coming home with _us_ , his _family_ , where I can watch over him as he recovers and mother him to my heart’s content!” 

That was enough to have him clearing his throat, and they all turned to look at him. Molly came toward him, her face wreathed in smiles. “Harry, dear,” she said, taking his chin in her hand to tilt his face up so she could take a good look at him. “You’re looking so much better! How’s the food going down? Still feeling a bit tired? Would you like to go lie back down?” 

“No, thank you, Mrs. Weasley, and I’m feeling much better now that I’ve had some sleep and something to eat.” He gently detached her hand and looked at the Unspeakables who were eying him a little too avidly for his comfort. “Hello,” he said cautiously. 

“Mr. Potter,” said the shortest of the three, coming forward to stare at Harry, his sharp blue eyes taking in every detail of his face like he was examining it for flaws. “Penderwick, Department of Mysteries. These are my companions, Haggot,” and the tall, thin man just behind Penderwick nodded, his eyes glittering as he fixed his gaze on Harry, “and Beaker.” Beaker was broad and thick around the chest and shoulders, and the teeth in his smile were very white, and very straight. 

“Pleased to meet you,” said Harry automatically, though he very carefully didn’t hold out his hand. “And why is the Department of Mysteries here, Mr. Penderwick?” 

“We’re here to take you back to the Ministry, Mr. Potter,” said Penderwick with an insincere smile. “You’ve been through a great trauma, a young wizard like yourself must be very careful of your developing magical core. We have ways of measuring the strength and depth of a witch or wizard’s core, and monitoring them, to ensure that there is no damage, if you understand me.” 

“No,” said Harry, frowning. “I really don’t. And while I... appreciate the Ministry’s concern, I must... decline.” 

Kingsley came to stand next to him in an unspoken display of support as the three Unspeakables stared at him in shock. “You... you’re... _declining??_ ” Penderwick said almost soundlessly. 

“Yes,” said Harry, standing. 

“Harry,” Molly said, aghast as she looked from him to the three Unspeakables, but Harry ignored her and kept his gaze focused on Penderwick. 

“Yeh don’t understand, laddie,” said Haggot, leaning forward with a frown. “It wasn’t a _request_. It’s a politely worded _order_.” 

“I see,” said Harry, irritated now. “At this point, I need to see your left arms.” 

“What?” blustered Penderwick. “Are you suggesting...” 

“I’m not suggesting anything, Mr. Penderwick,” Harry said, pulling out his wand. “I’m demanding the three of you bare your left arms. Right now.” 

“We’re not bloody Death Eaters!” blustered Haggot, his thin face flushing angrily. “We work for the Ministry!” 

“Yes,” said Harry evenly. “There were a lot of Death Eaters working in the Ministry, you know. I’ve never met the three of you in my life. _I don’t know you_. And you’re trying to get me to just trust you and leave the safety of Hogwarts barely days after Voldemort’s death.” He held his wand steadily on Penderwick. “I don’t think it’s all that unreasonable for me to ask you three to bare your left arms. Now.” 

Before Haggot could explode with the words so clearly on his lips, Beaker calmly rolled both sleeves up and bared both forearms for Harry. “The lad’s got a point,” Beaker said in a surprisingly deep voice. “Besides,” and he turned to smirk at Haggot, “you’ve had at least four people draw on you just _today_ just because of the way you _loom_.” 

Haggot flushed angrily, but started yanking his sleeves up. “Fine,” he snapped, “but we’ll be having no more of your nonsense after this, _boy_... AAAUUGHH!!!” He flailed and cursed as the Jelly Legs jinx nearly sent him to the floor. “What the hell’d you do that for?” Haggot bellowed as he cast the counter-curse on his legs. 

Harry leaned down to glare into the Unspeakable’s eyes before he could get up, his wand pressing into the tip of the man’s prominent nose. “No one... calls me... _boy_ ,” Harry hissed angrily. He flicked an eye over the man’s forearms, then stepped back. “Mr. Penderwick?” 

The short wizard already had his arms bared, and Harry nodded, satisfied, then stepped back. “Very well. You’re free to go now.” 

Penderwick spluttered. “What? Don’t be ridiculous, you’re coming with us! Come along now and...” he paused when he realized Harry wasn’t moving. 

“Am I under arrest?” Harry asked mildly. 

“Of course not!” said Penderwick, frowning mightily now. 

Harry turned to Kingsley, who seemed to be watching this with great amusement. “Am I of age and considered an adult by wizarding law?” 

“Yes, Mr. Potter, you are,” Kingsley said gravely with a nod, though the corners of his mouth were twitching suspiciously. 

“As long as you’re a student at Hogwarts,” said Penderwick ponderously, “you are still considered a minor according to wizarding law.” 

Harry turned to Professor McGonagall. “Am I still a student at Hogwarts?” 

“No, Mr. Potter,” she said, folding her hands together at her waist. “You sent me a letter stating your intent to not return last fall. You may, of course, at any time reinstate yourself as a student in order to complete your seventh year and take your NEWTS if you so wish. But, even should you choose to do so, you would still be considered an adult.” 

Harry turned back to Penderwick. “I will not be going anywhere with you or your companions, Mr. Penderwick,” Harry said deliberately. 

Haggot looked like he was going to explode, and finally, he shouted, “You haven’t claimed your family inheritance, and therefore, you are still considered a minor according to wizarding law, Mr. Potter. Now, stop this ridiculous shilly-shallying before I clap you in irons!” 

He suddenly found five wands leveled at him. “What... what is the meaning of this??” he blustered. 

McGonagall arched a brow. “As Deputy Headmistress of this school, I must inform the three of you that you have all officially outworn your welcome. You have precisely thirty seconds to vacate these premises before I call out the stone knights to toss you out!! Thirty... twenty-nine... twenty-eight... twenty-seven...” 

“I think she means it,” said Beaker, sounding grim and not the least bit surprised. He planted a large hand on the shoulder of each of his companions and nodded respectfully to Professor McGonagall. “I will owl you, Professor.” And with that, he Apparated away with his companions. 

McGonagall huffed angrily and dropped her arm. “Officious idiots,” she said, brushing imaginary dust from her skirts. “I would never have allowed them so much as past the gates if I’d even suspected what they were up to!” She turned and fastened her eyes on Harry. “Well, Mr. Potter, it seems you have some business with Gringott’s to clear up.” 

Surprised, he met her eyes, then understanding hit him. “Yes, I do,” he said, a little shaken. “I’ll go as soon as I’ve cleaned up and put on some... clean clothes.” 

“What? Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Harry, it can wait,” said Molly, shooting a glare at the Transfiguration professor before turning back to Harry. “As soon as you’re finished with your lunch, we can pack your things. We’re heading back to the Burrow.” 

“Mrs. Weasley,” began Madam Pomfrey, but Harry shook his head, looking back at Molly with a frown. 

“We?” Harry asked softly. 

“Of course!” She smiled warmly at him, tucking a lock of his hair back behind his ear. “You, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Bill and the others have already headed back, we were just waiting for you.” 

“And Draco?” he asked, stepping back from her. 

“Draco?” Molly looked puzzled, shooting a look at the other two women, then at Kingsley before returning to Harry. “Draco Malfoy? Why are you asking, dear?” 

“Because,” said Harry, forcing his temper down, “he defied his father to help us, and as a result, he has no home to return to!” 

“Harry,” said Kingsley, and Harry sighed, turning to the Auror patiently. “Lucius Malfoy was killed shielding his son from an AK aimed at him from Bellatrix Lestrange. It happened during the battle. Draco is now the Malfoy Seigneur.” 

“See!” said Molly brightly, wrapping a proprietary hand around his arm and patting his shoulder comfortably with the other. “All taken care of! Now you eat up, Harry...” 

“No,” Harry said with less patience than he had before, and he managed to keep his touch respectful if not gentle as he pushed her hands away from him. “No, Mrs. Weasley, I have eaten as much as I’m going to eat for now. And I am not going to the Burrow with you and the others. I have business to take care of first...” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry, Arthur or Bill can take care of that for you,” said Molly with a huff as she tried to catch him again, apparently intent on making him finish his breakfast. 

“Mrs. Weasley!” Harry said sharply, and Molly blinked in surprise, but stopped trying to touch him, standing still with her hands clasped in front of her. “Mrs. Weasley, I’m.... thankful... for the attention you’ve shown me, and how you’ve tried to take care of me. Right now, however, I have business that needs to be attended to now. Please do not make the mistake of treating me like a child. I haven’t been a child in a very long time.” 

There was a breathless silence as Mrs. Weasley, Madame Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, and Shacklebolt all stared at him. With a sigh, Harry said, “By the way, where are the others?” 

“They’re downstairs eating lunch in the Great Hall,” said Professor McGonagall. “Shall I send someone...” 

“No, I’d best do this now. You might tell Draco where I’ve gone, though,” Harry said, going to the bed where he’d been sleeping and digging through his rucksack. “Auror Shacklebolt, will you accompany me?” 

“It would be my honor,” the tall Auror said, bowing slightly. 

Harry ignored the tears he knew were shining in Mrs. Weasley’s eyes. He appreciated her motherly heart, but right now... mothering was the last thing he needed. 

 

 

 

When he returned from the bank, shock was probably the best way to describe Harry’s feelings. 

“Buck up, Potter,” Malfoy murmured at his side as they walked through the doors of the castle and made their way to the stairs. “The children don’t need to see Father swooning.” 

“Shut it, Malfoy,” Potter muttered, but he did straighten up and nod vaguely at the people standing in the hallway and around the doors to the Great Hall, where many of the refugees were still being housed. The weight of the Potter family ring was unfamiliar on his hand and felt odd. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about finding out that the little vault he’d been getting money from since his first year at Hogwarts _wasn’t_ the family vault. That it was actually just a “trust” vault, set aside by his father soon after finding out his wife was pregnant, all for the purpose of making sure his child would go to Hogwarts. 

Seeing the actual Potter vault, and finding out that he was the scion of one of the wealthiest old families in Britain had been both stunning and infuriating. Stunning because he’d had no idea, not from the memories and photos he’d seen of his parents, nor of the few memories that had been shared with him about his family. They’d looked like any other middle class family in Britain, and Harry had been totally okay with that. But this? 

It was infuriating, though, because the one constant refrain he’d heard from the Dursleys from his earliest memories was how much money he cost them, how much food he took from their mouths... when really, they’d been taking it from _him_. Because it turned out that Dumbledore, as his guardian, had set up a monthly stipend for his care, to compensate the Dursleys for the expense of an extra child. They had spent _none_ of it on him. 

And there had been no one to make them, either. 

“Come on, Potter, calm down,” Malfoy said as they went up the stairs. “You’re making the torches dance in their brackets. It would be just our luck, Moldy Shorts and all his minions couldn’t bring Hogwarts down, but Harry Fucking Potter throws a temper tantrum and _BOOM!_ ” 

Harry snorted. “Wanker,” he muttered, and Malfoy nudged him. He sighed. “Have I told you how glad I am you showed up at the bank?” 

“You may have mentioned it once or twice,” Malfoy said smoothly as they reached the top of the stairs. “You should be thanking Chief Ragnok for sending an owl to me asking me to floo immediately to Gringotts.” 

“Oh, I will, believe me.” Then Harry frowned and turned, looking back toward the stairs. “This isn’t the way to the infirmary.” 

“We aren’t sick, Potter,” Malfoy said easily, slipping a hand around his elbow and tugging gently. “McGonagall got the school to open a tower for us temporarily until we all decide what we’re going to do.” 

“We?” asked Harry as he allowed himself to be drawn down an unfamiliar corridor. 

“Of course, we,” said Malfoy as they stopped in front of a portrait. The occupant, a man dressed in the fashion of Louis XIV’s court, looked down at them with a kind smile. “Alain, this is Harry Potter,” Malfoy said, tugging Harry over. “He’ll be staying in Marauder Tower with the rest of us.” 

“But of course,” said Alain, bowing to Harry. “The Hero of Hogwarts is welcome in Marauder Tower. And the password?” 

Malfoy flushed slightly, but cleared his throat and said, “All for one...” 

“And one for all,” answered Alain. “You may pass.” The portrait swung open and Malfoy tugged him in. 

“Marauder Tower?” Harry asked, stunned. “Who?” 

“Apparently, McGonagall thinks you, me, Weasley and Granger are the new incarnations of the Marauders,” said Malfoy with an irritation that Harry knew was feigned. “And of course, Cousin Sirius is far too amused to be offended by it.” 

Harry turned. “Sirius is here?” 

“Of course I am, pup!” said a voice behind him, and Harry turned to launch himself into his godfather’s arms. “I came back as soon as the bank notified me that you had accepted your ring. Would have been here sooner, but I was running an errand, so to speak.” 

All the tension, anger, and confusion that had been warring in him since the moment Lugnot had brought out his parents’ will along with the box that held his father’s ring melted out of him in Sirius’ affectionate embrace. 

And for the moment, that was enough. 

 


	3. Taking Steps and Showing Faith...

 

Any hopes Harry had of being able to retreat to some quiet corner of the tower to process the information he’d been given over the last three hours were dashed when his friends, including Neville and Luna, stood up from their seats in front of the fire and turned toward him as he came through the common room door. Only Sirius’ steady hand on his back kept him from fleeing back through the door as his friends rushed toward him, and a murmured, “Steady on, pup,” in his ear. A sly nudge from the Slytherin at his side didn’t hurt, either. 

Harry took in a deep breath and shoved his hands into his pockets as he faced the circle of curious and expectant faces. They were waiting for explanations, Hermione most pointedly, and in a sudden burst of clarity, Harry realized right then and there that things had to change. He could no longer afford for his entire life to be an open book, and he was very tired of constantly explaining himself to his friends and anybody else who thought his life was their business. Even if he hadn’t had a chance to process it all yet, he had responsibilities now, and he was very aware of the ring pressing into his fingers as he clenched his hand into a fist. 

“All right, all right, step back, everyone, and give Harry a little room to breathe,” he heard Sirius say. “No need to crowd the man.” 

They did back off, and Harry gave a sigh of relief and headed for the sofa set with chairs around the fireplace, dropping down as the weight of his exhaustion made itself known. 

Both Sirius and Malfoy slipped into place on either side of him, cheerfully oblivious to the affronted expressions of those who would normally claim those spaces. 

Hermione compromised by sitting carefully on the low table in front of the couch as the rest settled on chairs and poufs around them. She folded her hands in her lap and looked intently at Harry. “Why did you go to the bank without us? Ron and I didn’t even know you were gone until we’d gone to sit with you after lunch and Madame Pomfrey told us you’d been gone for an hour!” she said reproachfully, her eyes shining with sad disappointment. 

“Yeah, that’s not going to work on me this time, Hermione,” Harry said irritably, and felt Draco’s knee knock against his gently. Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair, then frowned at her. “Let’s just say I had a visit from the Ministry that made claiming my inheritance as soon as possible a priority.” 

“From the Ministry?” Ron leaned forward from his chair, a conspiratorial grin spreading across his face. “Already offering you the Order of Merlin, are they?” 

Harry frowned. “Uh, no, Ron, they weren’t.” He shot a look at Sirius, who nodded encouragingly. “I’m not exactly sure why the Unspeakables wanted me, but I declined their offer and went to the bank to take the steps necessary to ensure I would be declared an adult by wizarding law.” 

Ron’s mouth dropped open. “Are you completely _mental?_ ” the red-head blurted. “Harry, if one of old Moldy’s unmarked supporters decides to do something mad, like file murder charges against you, you could be tried as an _adult!_ ” 

“You can’t be serious!” Harry began, stunned, but Malfoy nudged his knee again and leaned forward, cutting in smoothly. 

“No, Potter, _that’s_ Sirius, sitting on the other side of you,” he drawled lazily, gesturing toward Harry’s godfather. “After the trying day you’ve had, I can completely understand the mix-up, even though the blazing red hair should have cleared that up for you.” He patted Harry’s arm with a smirk, then turned back to Ron. “I know you lot were discussing this when I was called away, but I didn’t realize you were _seriously_ considering this a possibility, or I would have explained better.” 

“Draco, you said yourself that this was a possibility we should be concerned about,” Hermione began as she elbowed Ron before he could snark back at Malfoy. 

“No, you misunderstood me,” Malfoy said, leaning back against the cushions and pressing his shoulder against Harry’s. “We were discussing the issue of the Dark Lord’s unmarked supporters and how difficult it would be to identify them. I said there would always be an element of doubt regarding them unless one or more of them was stupid enough to file a wrongful death lawsuit on behalf of the Dark Lord against Harry.” 

“Oh, right,” said Ron, nodding in agreement. “Then we’d know for sure.” 

“Precisely,” said Malfoy, giving Harry another little nudge. “And that was the point where I was called away by Ragnok’s very insistent and extremely annoying little owl.” 

“Yes, yes, he was very annoying,” said Ginny, flapping her hands at him as she moved to join Hermione on the table. “But to get back to the subject, why did you go without Ron and Hermione? You took Malfoy, so why not them?” 

“I didn’t take Malfoy,” said Harry, aware that there was a growing edge to his voice and unable to stop himself. “Chief Ragnok was responsible for that.” 

“Chief... Ragnok?” said Ginny, turning to look at the others with wide eyes. 

“Chieftain of the Goblin Horde,” explained Neville calmly. “Basically the... uh... president of the bank?” 

“More like the Lord High Emperor and Ruler of the Universe of the bank,” said Malfoy with a smirk. “He does not appreciate it when an extremely powerful young wizard causes his entire bank to vibrate down the the lowest level and nearly brings it all down on everyone’s head just because said wizard is upset about some violations of his parents’ last will and testament. Chief Ragnok decided the best thing to do was get someone to calm him down, and since Lord Black was... unavailable... he sent for me.” 

“I could have calmed him down!” protested Ron, and he blinked in surprise at the dubious looks that were sent his way. “Hey... I could have!” 

“Dear Lord Hot-Head, enabler be thy name,” said Sirius dryly as he cuffed the back of Ron’s head lightly when it looked like the redhead would explode. “You know it’s true, so shut it.” 

“In order to calm someone down, you have to be calm yourself,” said Luna with a small smile as she kicked her feet idly from her perch on the arm of Neville’s chair. “You’re never calm where Harry’s concerned, Ron,” she added softly when Ron turned to glare at her. 

“Violations?” asked Hermione, seizing on one point of the Slytherin’s words, looking from Harry to Malfoy, and then to Sirius. “What kind of violations? What did the goblins do?” 

“Interesting, Granger, that you’d assume it was the goblins who did anything,” said Malfoy sharply, but Harry stopped them both with a look, then glared at Hermione. 

“It wasn’t the goblins, Hermione.” When she turned a dubious look on him, he shook his head. “Look, my parents’ will had very clear, very specific instructions regarding my custody if something happened to both of them. There was a definite chain of custody if Sirius wasn’t able to take care of me and both Dumbledore and the Ministry _completely_ ignored it! In fact, their will said under _no circumstances_ was I to be left with Petunia Dursley, because my mother feared for my safety with her. And what does Dumbledore do?” 

“I’m sure Professor Dumbledore had his reasons,” Hermione began, but at the fury in Harry’s eyes, she balked, then bit her lips and said reproachfully, “Oh... Harry...” 

“Don’t, Hermione,” Harry said sharply. “I know you want to believe in him, but Dumbledore continually forgot that the lives he moved around on his chessboard of _the Greater Good_ were _real_. He expected me to _die_ , Hermione, and worse, he made sure that I not only came to that conclusion as well, but that I would actually _go through with it_.” He ignored her gasp of shock and looked at Ron, then Neville, then Ginny, and Luna. “Are you my friends?” 

Luna smiled and hopped off Neville’s chair and came to take his hand immediately. “Yes, Harry, I am your friend.” Her clear blue eyes met his unflinchingly. “I am your friend and I will always stand at your side. My wand will always be ready to defend you, and no matter where I am, if you call me, I will be there to help you. Always.” 

Harry smiled and squeezed her hand. “Cheers, Luna,” he said, and she smiled before going to sit next to Ginny. 

He looked at Ron, who seemed frozen with shock. “Ron?” 

Ron’s mouth worked for a moment before he blurted, “Of _course_ I’m your friend, you idiot!” He glared for moment, then sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck, looking very tired and very young at the same time. “Look,” he said finally, “I know I’ve let you down, Harry. I’ve spent a fair bit of time doing some soul searching after someone pointed out to me,” and he met Malfoy’s eyes squarely, “that actions speak louder than words. And some of my actions over the years have been pretty shite. I know that. I hope I’ve grown up a bit since then, and I promise you, mate... I’ll make sure my actions from now on match my words.” 

Harry studied Ron for a long moment, then he nodded. “Can’t ask better than that,” he said neutrally before he turned to Neville. 

Neville, who had been watching him thoughtfully, stood from his chair and moved to stand in front of Harry. “I’ve always been your friend, Harry,” he said quietly. “Though I think it’s safe to say that you haven’t always been a good friend to me, but I don’t think it was intentional. You just... didn’t know how to be a friend, yet.” He tilted his head as he met Harry’s eyes. “I’ll never stop being your friend, Harry. And when you need me, I’ll be there.” He held out his hand. 

Harry reached out and grasped Neville’s square hand firmly, and felt the return grip with relief. “I’ll do better, Nev,” he said and smiled when Neville nodded. “You’re right, I never had friends before coming to Hogwarts, so... I’m still sort of in the ... learning process...” 

Neville grinned suddenly. “Should we start grading you?” 

“Huh, dunno if I’m ready for that, yet, Neville,” Harry said with a return grin. “So far, the learning curve’s been pretty steep.” 

He turned to the last of his companions and met her fierce stare calmly. “And you, Ginny?” 

She swallowed hard as she stared up at him with wide, shocked eyes, and her lips parted. “Harry,” she said softly, standing slowly, clutching her hands together tightly, “I... don’t know what you want me to say.” 

“Are you my friend?” Harry asked, waiting. 

Ginny licked pale lips and frowned indignantly. “I... of course. Of course, I’m your friend, Harry! Always have been! I... I love you, you know that!” 

Harry shook his head slowly, thinking of the things the goblins had told him and realized they had a point. “Not what I asked, Ginny. Are you my _friend?_ Because... some of the things you’ve been doing, Ginny...” 

Ginny stared at him, eyes wide, and then she swallowed hard and said, “Harry... I am. I am your friend. I... what do you want from me?” 

He smiled sadly. “It’s okay, Gin... just... don’t worry about it.” He turned lastly to Malfoy, who was watching him with amusement curling the corner of his mouth. “Malfoy?” 

Malfoy’s grey eyes never wavered as he rose and came to stand in front of Harry. “I am your friend, Harry Potter. I pledged myself to help you the night I found you puking your guts up after one of those ridiculous remedial potions lessons and found out how badly my godfather was fucking up. I promised to help you learn Occlumency and you promised to save my mother.” He reached to take Harry’s hand, running a thumb over the scar left by Umbridge’s Blood Quill. “I thought I was simply keeping a bargain, but you showed me what a true friendship can be, and I’ll never forget that.” The grey eyes came back up to meet Harry’s steadily. “Yes, I am your friend, to my dying day.” 

The fireplace must have been smoking a bit, because Harry’s eyes were stinging. He gripped Malfoy’s hand firmly. “To our dying day,” he said, and something like relief flowed through him when the blond nodded. 

“Harry,” said Hermione in a small voice, and Harry turned to look at her as she stared up at him, biting her lip uncertainly. 

“Yes, Hermione?” 

Her eyes widened at his tone, and she blinked rapidly for a moment before she finally said, “Are you going to ask me?” 

Harry regarded her for a long moment, then moved toward her slowly and sat down, leaning forward to take her small hands in his. “No,” he said after a long moment and sighed when she went white. “Do you want to know why?” 

Hermione’s dark eyes searched his for a long moment before she straightened, and even though he could feel her hands trembling against his, she took in a deep breath and with the courage that had been a part of her from the moment he’d met her in first year, she faced her fear and said, “Yes. Yes, I do.” 

He held on a moment longer, then smiled gently. “Because, Hermione Granger, you’ve been my friend pretty much since the moment you met me, before I ever realized you were my friend. You didn’t declare yourself my friend, you just... did it. You tried to keep me out of trouble, even though I only saw it as bossiness back then. You have staunchly remained my friend, even when other people turned their backs on me. You’ve run yourself ragged trying to keep me alive and sane and with all my parts where they belong.” He squeezed her hands gently as she stared up at him, wide-eyed with shock, then began to smile shyly. “You’ve believed in me when no one else did, even if you barely trust me to be able to so much as tie my own shoes. I’ve never doubted that you are my friend, Hermione.” 

Hermione gave a hiccuping laugh. “I am your friend, Harry Potter,” she said fiercely, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. “Even if you _did_ make me cry, yes... I am your friend, you’re _stuck_ with me!” She tugged his hand gently. “So... what was the point of all of this?” 

“I just thought it was expedient to establish where our loyalties lie, just so you would all know,” Harry said after a moment. 

It took a moment for his words to sink in. Then Ron frowned and said, “Wait... you did this so... so we would all know where our loyalties lie?” 

“Yes,” said Harry, waiting. 

Ron blinked, then grinned. “Wicked,” he said slowly, eyes lit with an admiration Harry usually only saw aimed at Hermione as the others absorbed the impact of Harry’s words. 

It felt strange. 

It didn’t take long, however, for the other Weasley in the room to understand what exactly had happened. “Wait... that was a _test??_ ” Ginny asked, incredulous. 

“No,” said Neville, looking at her as if he were only really seeing her for the first time. “It wasn’t a test. Harry was just helping us clear the air and push away our doubts. We’re going to need that in the coming days.” 

But Ginny wasn’t really assuaged. “That’s not fair!” she said angrily. “I can’t _believe_ you put me on the spot like that! And after all I’ve done for you!” She turned and ran up the stairs. 

Ron watched her go, then turned back to Harry. “Uh... mate...” 

Harry shook his head. “She has some soul-searching of her own to do, Ron,” he said quietly. “Best we let her get on with it.” 

“Right... right,” said Ron slowly 

There was another tug at Harry’s hand, and he found Hermione frowning at his ring. “Harry, what’s this?” 

He sighed. “My family ring. I claimed it. All part of the... establishing myself as an adult?” 

She was frowning at it, then looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Harry... your family is _Ancient_ and _Noble??_ ” 

Before he could answer, Ron snorted. “Well, of _course_ they are! Everyone knows that!” When Hermione turned to stare at him, Ron rolled his eyes impatiently. “Hermione, I _know_ you looked at all the family trees fifth year when we were staying at Grimmauld Place, after seeing the Black family tapestry. Surely you looked at Harry’s?” 

Hermione blushed. “I... never really thought about it,’ she admitted, considerably embarrassed to be caught left-footed. “He’s just... Harry, and it never occurred to me to... OH!!” 

Because Harry had swept her up in a hug, surprising her into a squeak. “Harry, what?” 

He smiled at her as he set her back on her feet. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me, Hermione!” he said happily. 

Hermione blinked at him, then laughed, punching his shoulder. “You,” she said affectionately and shook her head, refocusing. “But, the ring?” 

“Yeah, well... let’s just say claiming it solidifies my legal status, and makes it that much harder for someone like, say, the Unspeakables, to just... make me disappear.” It was odd how still everyone went when they got it. Sighing, Harry rubbed his face. “Yeah, well... it’s been a very stressful afternoon, and I’m knackered. If there’s nothing else, I’d like a bit of a kip...” 

Everyone moved back, and Ron and Neville led Harry up stairs on the opposite side of the room from where Ginny had gone up, to show him where his things were. 

Harry took one look at the bed in his room and dove in. His problems weren’t going to go away, but they could wait. 

There was a knock on his door, and he sat up with a frown, wondering when they were going to let up. “Yeah?” 

Malfoy stuck his head in. “Set your wards?” 

Oh. Right. “Sorry,” and Harry pulled out his wand. “I’ll fix that right now.” 

Malfoy nodded, eying him keenly, then shut the door. 

Harry set his wards, then lay back down, digging a shoulder into the mattress and letting himself fall into sleep. 

His eyes popped open. Ron hadn’t taken his hand. He’d declared himself Harry’s friend... but he didn’t take Harry’s hand. 

Fatigue dragged at him, and he groaned as he turned over, pulling the blankets over himself. It was a problem for another day, when he wasn’t so exhausted and could think clearly. Using Occlumency to push the worry away from his mind, Harry settled into a deep, if troubled, sleep. 

 


	4. Interludes and Discussions..

 

Sirius Black took the cup of tea he’d been offered and sat down casually in the chair Kingsley had confiscated from another cubicle. He leaned back, looking thoughtfully at all the photographs of himself that were still pinned up on the walls. “You never took these down?” he asked with amusement, watching the various versions of himself peering at him and making faces.

Kingsley grinned at him over the cup of tea he was raising to his lips. “I got used to them,” he said as several of the photographs waved cheerfully at Kingsley. “Besides, every time one of Fudge’s or Scrimgeour’s flunkies came to talk to me, it made the little veins on their foreheads pop out and pulse.” 

Sirius laughed and shook his head. “Take your entertainment where you could get it?” 

“You bet.” Kingsley set his teacup down. “But, you didn’t come here to talk about my wall decorations.” 

It wasn’t a question. 

“No,” said Sirius. He took another sip of the tea, then set it down carefully before lacing his fingers together and studying Kingsley’s face. The Auror kept his own expression calm and politely interested. With a sigh, Sirius leaned forward. Might as well grab the bull by the horns. “Tell me, how serious a threat is the Department of Mysteries to my godson?” 

Kingsley grimaced. “To tell you the truth, Sirius, I asked questions, but I didn’t get too far. When Voldemort took over the Ministry, his puppets were all in place, waiting, and we never established clearly whether or not he had a puppet in play in the DOM. I do know that during the war, they were actively seeking a way to try to either reverse Voldemort’s resurrection, or find a way to negate his power in some way. They couldn’t touch Harry while Dumbledore was alive, and after his death, the Weasleys closed ranks around him. Only Scrimgeour got even remotely close to Harry, and I know it frustrated both him and the Unspeakables when Harry refused to come to the Ministry with him.” 

Sirius nodded. “Now the question is, why are they after Harry?” 

“Well,” said Kingsley slowly as he turned his teacup idly, pushing it with a fingertip against the handle, “judging by the conversation, I’d say they were trying to find out just how powerful Harry is... and if there’s even the remotest chance he could go dark.” He lifted his wand discreetly, hidden by the desk, and cast an even stronger privacy ward than the standard one he’d cast when they’d entered his cubicle. “I greatly suspect they’re after the secret of Riddle’s longevity, as well,” he said softly. 

Sirius only just managed not to crush the cup he’d been cradling in his hands. It had been on his mind as well, that someone in the Department of Mysteries surely wondered how Voldemort had managed his “resurrections” and also probably wondered about Harry’s “death” and the change in his curse scar. 

Someone wanted to know about horcruxes. 

“I’m sure there are a great many who would like to know that secret,” Sirius said aloud. “Too bad that information died with Dumbledore and Riddle.” 

“This is true,” Kingsley said, picking up his tea cup. “After all, Dumbledore did keep Harry too much in the dark, sharing so little information, it’s a wonder the kid even knew who he was fighting!” 

Unable to hold back a snort, Sirius shook his head. “There are a great many things Dumbledore _and_ the Ministry have to answer for where Harry Potter is concerned. Speaking of which, what has happened to Dolores Umbridge?” 

Kingsley smirked. “You were right, she _was_ a marked Death Eater. Just... not on her left arm.” 

“Oh?” Sirius leaned forward, eyes gleaming with interest. “ _Where?_ ” 

“Apparently, the Dark Lord was aware he couldn’t put it on her arm, especially if she were to keep moving up in the Ministry.” Then he grinned, white teeth bright in his dark face. “Remember her habit of suddenly leaping up and exclaiming she was late, or had forgotten something?” 

Sirius stared at him for a long moment, then his mouth dropped open. “No!!!” 

“Oh, _yes!_ ” said Kingsley with relish. “Bill Weasley had cast one of those goblin dark magic detecting charms he uses in his job with the bank, and there was this _glow_ coming off her substantial backside! No one really wanted to see her arse, but Bill cast a disrobing charm, and there it was, right there on her left buttock!” 

Sirius broke out into howls of great baying laughter, much to Kingsley’s amusement. He waited until Sirius was almost calm to add dryly, “I have pictures if you’d like...” 

Sirius was rolling in incoherencies of mirth for at last half an hour. 

 

 

 

A robed and hooded figure slipped out of a nearby alcove, pulling what looked like a seashell from where an ear would be under its hood and shaking it with irritation. 

Another figure approached. “Anything?” 

“Nothing informative,” said the first, sounding annoyed. “Then Shacklebolt must have cast another privacy charm, though I never saw his wand, and now, the mutt is bloody _laughing._ ” 

“No information on Potter and his activities, then?” 

“No.” The shell was shoved into a pocket and the hood quivered for a moment. “We’ll have to hope we can get to him through one of his friends. Get a listening ear in or trick one of them into giving us regular reports.” 

“Best head back then,” said the second. “The mutt will be leaving soon and won’t appreciate finding any of us about.” 

They turned and faded back into the shadows of the Ministry’s walls. 

 

 

 

One of the many dilemmas faced by the Hogwarts Board of Governors was what to do about students who had been due to take O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s. It was generally recognized that the entire academic year had been, if not a complete loss where some subjects were concerned, such as Muggle Studies and Defense Against the Dark Arts, then at the very least, the war had served as a _huge_ distraction. None of the students currently sitting for O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s were even remotely ready to take their tests. Technically, the school year was not quite complete. But with the school sustaining such heavy damage, not to mention deaths among both students and faculty, the Board was forced to take a step that had happened only twice before during the school’s history. 

The first time was during the academic school year of 1348-1349, when the Black Death swept through England, killing both Muggle and wizard alike with indiscriminate indifference. There had barely been enough students, or indeed, _teachers_ for anyone to bother keeping the school open. And the second time was in 1883 when Filbert the Indiscriminate, tired of constant chilblains in his fingers and toes, cast a climate changing spell over the Hebrides Islands in hopes of getting a more gentle climate and instead caused a chain of events that ended with the explosive eruption of a volcano in Indonesia known as “Krakatoa.” As a result, the weather in the Hebrides and Scotland, instead of being sunnier and _warmer_ , instead got cloudier and much _colder._ Hogwarts became all but uninhabitable during that time. This, then, would be the third time. 

Minerva McGonagall stood at the dais of the Great Hall, looking out over the people grouped at the tables. No longer were people sitting according to House since there were many families where the children, and even the parents, belonged to different houses. Instead, the house elves had replaced the long tables with smaller round tables that seated eight to twelve people, and so people were seated in clusters of family and friends rather than houses and politics. Well... for the most part. 

Those who had not sided with Harry, but had not openly served Voldemort, still tended to sit apart, exiling themselves from the rest of the refugee and student population. 

And not all of those were Slytherins. 

Still, Minerva thought as she looked around the Great Hall, taking in students sitting with friends, the parents who were gathered with their children, reluctant to have their offspring out of their sight after such a close call, Albus would have been proud. This was the closest to actual unity the school had come since its founding. 

Blinking away the sting in her eyes, Minerva aimed her wand at her throat, cast _Sonorus_ , and said, “If I might have your attention, please?” 

The Great Hall quieted as every eye turned toward her. With a nod, she unrolled the scroll the Board of Governors’ owl had delivered half an hour ago and cleared her throat. “By decree of the Board of Governors for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it has been determined that due to misadventure, war, hostile conditions, incompetent teaching by war criminals, fear, torture, outright kidnapping, and hazardous activities upon the premises up to and not including invasion by Death Eaters, giant Spiders, Giants, Werewolves, Vampires, and other unwholesome influences, the academic year of 1997-1998 is hereby declared a do-over.” She frowned as she stared at the scroll, then looked up and around the Great Hall to find Black, Potter, Malfoy, and Augusta Longbottom beaming at her. Blinking rapidly, she looked back down at the scroll to recover her equilibrium. “Er... all students who either were not able to attend school or found their academic year interrupted by the bat-shit insanity of Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Moldyshorts, He Who Has No Nose... oh, this is just ridiculous...” 

“Keep reading, Minerva!” shouted Augusta, happily pounding her parrot-head umbrella against the table. “Get to the good part!” 

“Oh... erm...” Minerva looked back at the scroll and gave an exasperated sigh. “ _Fine._ He Who Has No Nose, and The Derp Lord... dear Merlin...” 

“Get on with it!” bellowed Augusta, and rolling her eyes, Minerva did. 

“All students who found their academic year interrupted may return next fall at no penalty to study and catch up, or take the studies they would have had they been able to attend school. You will then be free to sit your O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s as required.” 

Cheers broke out around the Great Hall at this news, and Minerva shook her head at the mischief mongers sitting at one table, relieved that someone, at least, was thinking about the school. 

_There_ , she thought, looking out over the cheering crowd, _take that, Albus._

 

 

 

_Of course_ , Harry thought when he spotted a very determined Hermione Granger headed his way. He had hoped hiding in a back corner of the library while looking over the fat folder brought by a Gringott’s owl promptly after lunch would have been enough to throw her off, especially since Ron, Ginny, and a large group of others had headed out to have a celebratory game of Quidditch after lunch. And, of course, Hermione would pick the moment when Malfoy was off in the stacks looking for book on inheritance law to help him to appear. 

Harry _could_ pretend not to have seen her and get up with a parchment in his hand like he was trying to find something, but she’d see right through it. Resigned to his fate, he simply closed the folder and folded his hands on top of it to wait. 

Hermione came and sat down across from Harry and stared pointedly at him. 

Harry sighed. “Okay, can we just skip the part where I squirm uncomfortably while I try to guess what the hell you’re thinking and just head to the part where you finally just tell me what’s on your mind but without the part where you get very snippy and angry with me for not reading your mind?” 

Hermione’s mouth fell open. “What?” 

“Really, Hermione, we’re not 11 years old any more. If you have something to say, for Merlin’s sake, just say it!” 

“Harry James Potter... _mmfh?_ ” Her eyes went wide as her mouth snapped shut and she stared at the wand that was aimed at her. 

He glared at her. “Really? You’re not my mother. You’re my _friend._ So, you don’t get to do the three names thing. Ever. Now, if you have something to tell me, then tell me. If you want to scold me for something you think I should have done, but I haven’t, you should know by now that I either don’t know I should have done it, or have good reasons for not having done it, so let’s skip the scolding part. Besides, Malfoy’s already ripped my hide already, so no need for you to do it, too. Now, do you have something to tell me? Nod once.” 

Hermione, her eyes blazing now, nodded once. 

“Are you going to scold me about this thing you have to tell me, because you think I haven’t done anything about it because I haven’t said anything about it to you? Nod once, or shake your head once.” 

Frowning, she nodded once very slowly. 

“Fair enough. Okay, so are you willing to skip the scolding part and just tell me whatever this is?” 

She simply stared at him and that was enough for him. 

“All right, well, then you can just leave, because I don’t have time for that.” 

Tears welled up in her eyes and he threw his hands up. 

“For fuck’s sake, Hermione! All I’m asking for is some respect and consideration, is that so hard to ask?” 

She blinked in surprise, then sighed and shook her head. 

“Okay, so... can you just tell me and not scold?” 

Hermione nodded slowly. 

“Fine.” He lifted his wand. “ _Finite_.” 

She cleared her throat and took in a deep breath then let it out. “All right,” she said, looking down at her hands, then back up at him. “Are you going to be one of the students returning to Hogwarts in the fall for your seventh year?” 

“I haven’t decided yet,” Harry said, and lifted his wand warningly when she opened her mouth. She closed it abruptly and Harry nodded. “I’ve been talking it over with Sirius and Kingsley, so rest assured that I’m not ignoring the issue. I’m exploring my options.” 

“Options?” Hermione asked curiously. 

“I’m not willing to discuss it at this time,” Harry said firmly. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to discuss?” 

Hermione studied his face thoughtfully, then leaned forward. “I heard that the house elves just finished making treacle tarts. Want to see if we can talk them into a few slices?” 

Harry recognized a bribe when he saw one, and was considering it when Malfoy’s voice said, “I found the text you wanted, and three more that are relevant to the issue Lugnot brought to your attention. Oh, hello, Granger.” 

“Hello, Malfoy,” she said with a smile. “Anything I can help with?” 

“No, we’ve got it,” said Malfoy, and then he leaned toward her. “You know, Longbottom’s been in the greenhouses all morning, and I didn’t see him at lunch. Someone should drag him out for his own good and at least make him eat a sandwich.” 

Hermione’s eyes lit up. “He lost so much weight, he really needs to eat more,” she said standing up. “I’ll see you both later.” 

Harry watched her go, then turned to frown at the Slytherin. “Did you just manage her?” 

Malfoy smiled enigmatically and opened one of the books he had where a piece of parchment had been stuck. “Here, I think this section is precisely what you’re looking for...” 

Harry accepted the distraction for what it was, and focused his attention on the intricacies of wizard inheritance law. 

 

 

 

Luna came up to the room she was sharing with Ginny and watched her friend sitting in the window seat, looking out over the grounds. “Here,” she said, handing over a chocolate frog. “Chocolate fixes everything.” 

Ginny looked up and took it, though she didn’t open the package. “He didn’t come play Quidditch.” 

“No, he didn’t,” said Luna, not having any trouble knowing who Ginny meant. 

“He _loves_ Quidditch. It’s his favorite thing!” Ginny protested, fiddling with the wrapper. 

Luna opened her chocolate frog and let the candy sit on her knee before hopping to one of the pillows on the window seat. “Well, at least according to the newspapers, it is, ” she said as she held out her hand, and the chocolate frog hopped into it and croaked at her. 

“What does _that_ mean?” said Ginny, turning to look sharply at her. 

Luna smiled softly and looked out the window as she stroked the back of the chocolate frog’s head before licking her finger. “Just that newspapers can get things wrong.” She looked up at Ginny, tilting her head to the side. “They were wrong about Harry lying, and they were wrong about Voldemort not returning.” 

“But...”and Ginny faltered before looking at her chocolate frog box. “I don’t understand.” 

“Because you don’t want to understand,” said Luna sternly. “You’re actually a clever witch, Ginny, when you make the effort. But there’s a darkness in you that you’ve allowed to take root, and if you’re not careful, it’s going to hurt the people you care about most.” 

Ginny went pale. “Luna, I’m not... I’m not...” 

Luna stood, putting her chocolate frog back in its box. “Did you know Madame Pomfrey trained with a goblin healer after she got her certification? She needed to know how to help Professor Flitwick if he was ever injured or ill. She learned a lot from them, and she’s very discreet.” She looked back at Ginny, and there was no mistaking the compassion in her eyes. “You should probably talk to her about those nightmares you’ve been having.” She turned back just before she slipped out the door, her eyes gleaming in the twilight. “Or I will.” 

 


	5. "One night to be confused, one night to speed up truth..."

 

There were times when Harry’s frustration with the way he’d been kept ignorant of the wizarding world and its traditions made him want to blast something apart. His years with the Dursleys had made Harry careful about displaying any sort of academic talent, and leery of receiving praise from teachers, lest his guardians have yet _another_ excuse to vent their frustrations on him. He’d been very careful, therefore, to not study any more, or any less, than anyone else in his social circle, save Hermione. He _definitely_ studied less than Hermione.

What he hadn’t noticed until after fifth year, when he’d made his pact with Malfoy, was the subtle and yet deliberate way the Headmaster discouraged any efforts Harry made to inform himself. Telling him not to worry overmuch, or that things were being taken care of, that Harry would understand when he was older. Isolating him at the house on Privet Drive during the summers so that he couldn’t leave or even make so much as a day trip into London for a quick run through the Leaky and into Diagon Alley for supplies or books. Then isolating him at the Burrow where all information was carefully controlled, and he was distracted from asking questions with a, “Hungry, Harry, dear? I just made a treacle tart/plate of sandwiches,” or “Go outside! Go play! Boys need sunshine and fresh air!!” He never noticed it, because he was too busy trying to survive until the next crisis, or until the next year. 

Fifth year, with Dumbledore distancing himself, and all the crap that went down with Snape and Umbridge, had been a real eye-opener. It wasn’t until he started working with Malfoy on learning Occlumency “properly,” as Malfoy put it, that he realized what he’d been missing. 

Malfoy had been stunned at the level of Harry’s ignorance. And _why._ “Wait, you’re telling me you had no idea your family had _money?_ ” Malfoy had said, shocked. 

“Why do you think I dress like this?” Harry had asked, tugging at his oversized clothing. 

“I thought it was some weird Muggle fashion trend! I’ve seen those Muggle men with their trousers down around their thighs!” Malfoy had said indignantly. “Ridiculous, if you ask me! What if you needed to run?” 

Harry had started laughing and it was at that moment that something like a tentative friendship had begun to form. And because of that, a lot of things changed for Harry. 

If Hermione was the Brain of their group, and Ron was the Heart, and Harry was the Courage, then Malfoy was their Ground, keeping them focused on the realities of the wizarding world. Harry came to realize that there had been a lot of things Ron hadn’t told Harry or Hermione, not because he wished to keep them ignorant, but because he hadn’t wanted to diminish their sense of wonder in the magical world. 

Malfoy had no such compunctions and when he saw a conflict, instead of preserving their feelings and letting them have their little illusions, he told the truth. 

“That scar of yours is a connection to the Dark Lord?” Malfoy said in horror during their third Occlumency lesson. “Merlin, Potter, no wonder Dumbledore wants you to learn Occlumency!” 

Harry had wanted to bang his head against the wall. “And why would that be, Malfoy?” he’d asked with forced patience. 

Malfoy stared at him for a long moment, obviously remembering what Harry’d told him about not knowing a damn thing, then said, “Potter, if you can sense and hear the Dark Lord through your scar, then it stands to reason that he can see and hear _you_... or he will, at some point. You have to close that connection while it’s still one way, if it _is_ just one way!” 

“What do you mean?” Harry had asked with a growing sense of foreboding. 

“Been having any dreams lately you can’t explain?” 

After his confession about the corridor to the door in the Department of Mysteries, Malfoy had ramped up their sessions to three times a week, or whenever they could steal some time. It hadn’t been easy, what with Umbridge’s patrols and Harry having to manage the D.A. But by the time Voldemort finally made his move, Harry had been able to mostly block his connection with the Dark Lord and only let Voldemort see what Harry wanted him to see. 

“You’re thinking about it again.” 

Harry looked up. “What?” 

Draco Malfoy settled himself on the corner of the table Harry was using in the library. “You’re thinking about fifth year again, and the Hall of Prophecy. I can tell, you scowl and get a little line right there,” and he leaned forward to poke a finger between Harry’s brows. 

Harry flapped the poking finger away and frowned up at the irritating blond. “It’s not just fifth year. It’s the whole... thing.” 

“The whole thing?” Malfoy stood. “I think I’m going to need a chair for this, Scarhead.” 

Harry fished in his pocket until he pulled out an elastic and dangled it. “See this?” 

Malfoy eyed it disdainfully. “Yes?” 

“Call me Scarhead again and I’ll zap you with it.” 

Malfoy scoffed. “Get off it, Scarhead, a stinging hex would hurt more than that measly...” 

>SNAP 

Harry just smiled innocently as Malfoy stared in horror at the red spot on his hand before looking back up at Harry. “That _hurt!_ ” 

“Yes, I know,” said Harry sweetly. “Don’t call me Scarhead, and it’ll never happen again.” 

Malfoy eyed him banefully, but slid down into the chair he’d pulled out, and if Harry didn’t know better, he’d swear the Slytherin was pouting. 

“I can be reasonable,” he said sullenly, and Potter laughed, unable to help himself. 

Malfoy reached for one of the books Harry was studying and pulled it toward him, looking down his nose at the page, then an eyebrow as he looked back up at Harry. “The Magical and Muggleborn Child Protection Act of 1753?” 

Harry sighed and tapped the tip of the quill he’d been using to take notes against his parchment. “Dumbledore left me with my aunt’s family, and never checked on me. _No one_ ever checked on me. And even after I started Hogwarts and begged to not go back for the summer, he sent me back and never asked why.” He looked back up at Malfoy. “I wanted to know if there was something that should have been done, or if it could have been prevented.” 

“Potter,” Malfoy said softly, staring at Harry in shocked sympathy. He looked uncomfortable for a moment, then sat up and looked down at the book. “Well... you certainly can’t do anything to prosecute Dumbledore, because he’s gone. But there’s the DMLE’s Children’s Advocates, surely they should have been notified of your parents’ deaths and your placement?” 

“The what?” Harry asked, turning to frown at him. 

“Potter, what aren’t you telling me?” Malfoy asked, sitting up, eyes narrowed. “Because really, in the time that we’ve been... friends... you haven’t really said much about your Muggle family. I’ve respected your space and your privacy, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that there’s a problem, because you never went home during holidays, and your clothing...” he waved a hand at Harry, taking in his ragged jeans and threadbare tee, “...and you were always so thin when you came back in the fall...” 

Harry closed his eyes and took off his glasses, rubbing his forehead for a long moment. He never liked talking about this, and he’d never really said much to even Hermione and Ron. It was too hard, because both of them... their families loved them. Even if the Grangers didn’t exactly understand magic, they loved Hermione and it showed. 

“Potter?” 

He sighed and opened his eyes, not bothering to put his glasses on because seeing Malfoy out of focus would help him talk. “So, what were people saying about my Muggle family?” 

“Well,” said Malfoy, clearing his throat a little, “as children, we were told that your family worshipped the ground you walked on, because you were a wizard and a hero in our world. That they gave you everything you wanted and needed, and you were the smartest, most brilliant little wizard ever.” Harry watched the blur that was Malfoy bend his head to look down at the books. “Then I saw you at Madam Malkins, and you were this skinny, small, short little ... _waif_ in oversized clothing. You looked starved. You had these finger-shaped bruises on your arm, from a large hand, like someone had grabbed you roughly by the arm. I didn’t know who you were, but I talked to you, because I didn’t like how _scared_ you looked. Then you came to Hogwarts, and I realized who you were, and how it didn’t fit _any_ of the stories they’d told us, and... it made me angry. That’s why I wanted to make friends with you, why I told you I could help you make the right friends, but I made a right mess of it, because I was a stupid, self-important little prick.” 

Harry couldn’t help grinning at that. “I won’t disagree.” 

The blurry Malfoy snorted. “When you quite rightly turned me down, it hurt my feelings _and_ my pride... but it also meant I couldn’t... find out what was wrong and make my father fix it.” 

“Your father would have fixed it by killing me,” Harry said dryly. 

“Well, I know that _now_ ,” Malfoy said with a bitter laugh. The blur shook its head. “But back then? I thought my father could fix _anything_.” He sighed. “So... what happened?” 

Harry took a deep breath and stared at the library table. “They hated me. My aunt was jealous of her sister and hated magic. They thought it was... unnatural, so... they decided the best way to get rid of my magic was to make me as miserable as possible. So... they never touched me except to hit me. I slept in a cupboard under the stairs until I got my Hogwarts letter. I did all the work in the garden and yard, I cooked their food, I cleaned and painted the outside of the house, and did every single chore they could think of. And when I didn’t finish them in time, I didn’t eat. And that happened a lot, because the list of chores were so long, there was no way I could finish them all sometimes. I never celebrated my birthday or got presents for Christmas until Hogwarts. I thought my name was ‘Boy’ or ‘Freak’ until I was 5 and started school, which I didn’t get to go to all that much. My cousin used me as a punching bag until I learned to run faster than he could, and he made sure I never had friends, ever. Whenever I got sick or hurt, I never saw a doctor.” He lifted his glasses. “I’ve never seen an eye doctor for these. The school sent home a note saying I needed to see an eye doctor. Aunt Petunia bought these at a thrift store and gave them to me.” 

Long fingers closed around his wrist and he looked up, startled, to see Malfoy’s face looming into his. “Come on.” 

“What?” He started to put his glasses back on, but Malfoy pushed his other hand away. “Where are we going?” 

“To see Madame Pomfrey,” Malfoy said, his voice sounding murderous. “To do something that should have been done the first time you came to Hogwarts.” 

 

 

 

“Now, Mr. Potter, I want you to open your eyes as wide as you can,” Healer Wilkins, the wizard oculist Sirius had called in said calmly. “I’m going to put three drops of this potion in your eyes _first_ , and it’s very important that you _don’t blink_ until _after_ I cast the spell.” 

The potion stung, and he tightened his fingers around the arms of the chair he was sitting in, struggling not to blink. The bulk of the healer loomed up in front of him, and it was only the long fingers wrapped around his wrist that kept him from instinctively bringing up his wand. 

“ _Sanare Oculum Damnum!_ ” 

Light flared in his eyes, and Harry cried out as hands held him firmly in place. Icy fire seemed to be racing through his eyes into his very _brain_ , and he cried out again when everything distorted, and then suddenly, it eased and cleared. 

A cool wet cloth was pressed against his eyes, the sharp tang of all-heal reaching his nostrils. “Sit quietly for a moment, Mr. Potter,” he heard the Healer say. “The worst is over.” 

“I must say, Healer Wilkins, was all this _cleaning_ truly necessary?” he heard Madame Pomfrey ask huffily. “I keep a _very_ clean infirmary!” 

“Forgive my zeal, Madame Pomfrey,” Wilkins said soothingly. Harry found the man’s soft drawl comforting and more than a little amusing. “I didn’t want to take any chances with Mr. Potter.” 

“Well,” said Madame Pomfrey, sounding somewhat mollified, “he _is_ very dear to us. I’ve never seen that particular spell performed before.” 

“It’s something we’ve been using with great success for the last three years, Madame Pomfrey,” Wilkins said with amusement. “I dare say you will notice significant improvement, Mr. Potter.” 

The cloth was pulled gently away from his eyes, then Wilkins said, “All right, Mr. Potter, we’ve dimmed the lights just a bit. Open your eyes slowly, and take a look around.” 

Harry blinked rapidly, clearing his eyes, then gasped softly in shock as he stared around the infirmary after the wizard oculist stepped back. “I... don’t understand what I’m seeing,” he said slowly as he looked at the faces around him with their sharp, clear details. “I think you cast the spell too strong.” 

Healer Wilkins lifted his wand and cast a diagnostic, then another charm that had a small frame appear over Harry’s head. “Please look to your left, Mr. Potter.” He watched the picture in the frame. “And now to your right? And at Madame Pomfrey, please?” 

Harry did as asked, then looked up at Wilkins, who was managing to look both pleased and extremely irritated. “What is it? What’s wrong?” 

“There’s nothing wrong, Mr. Potter,” Healer Wilkins said, smiling kindly at Harry. “You’re simply seeing clearly, evidently for the first time in your life. And I would be interested in knowing why you didn’t receive a full checkup in your first week. I understand that’s standard for every student entering Hogwarts?” 

Madame Pomfrey flushed indignantly. “Harry’s aunt, Petunia Dursley, refused to grant permission for the checkup, and Headmaster Dumbledore assured me that Mr. Potter didn’t need it! I was instructed by the Headmaster to give Mr. Potter the minimum of care needed and nothing more, or face termination!” She turned to Harry, looking absolutely wrecked. “I slipped nutritional supplements into your potions when I could, Mr. Potter, that’s why they always tasted so horrible. I wanted to do more, but even the Ministry ordered me to cease and desist when I tried to file for an investigation of your home life. I’m so sorry, Mr. Potter, I should have tried harder...” 

“You tried,” said Harry bluntly. “That’s more than anyone else has done for me.” 

Professor McGonagall stared at him, tight-lipped with fury and self-recrimination. “I _tried_ to tell Albus not to leave you there, but he assured me...” she turned away and strode to one of the windows, her back straight and stiff. “I haven’t been a very good Head of House,” she said finally. 

Harry grimaced, then stood. “Look. There were a lot of things that should have been done in my case, but it’s done. You were Head of House, you were teaching Transfiguration, _and_ Deputy Headmistress, and from what I understand, Professor Dumbledore left a lot of the day to day running of the school to _you_ while he went off to do whatever it was he did, pretty much the entire time I’ve been here. When, exactly, were you supposed to have time to do _anything_ where I was concerned?” he asked with some exasperation. 

She turned, eyebrow lifted. “I’m a witch, Mr. Potter. I can _make_ the time!” 

“Yeah, pull the other one,” said Harry with a smirk. 

McGonagall stared at him for a moment longer, then heaved a sigh. “Oh, fine. You have a point. It’s just... it’s infuriating to not only find out that I dropped the snitch, but that I completely lost sight of it!” She threw up her hands and went to sit on a nearby bed and looked at both Madame Pomfrey and Healer Wilkins before staring pointedly at Harry. “And you’ll be getting a full physical workup, won’t you, Mr. Potter?” 

He shivered, and felt Malfoy’s hand steady on his shoulder. “Um... yes, Professor, I believe I will.” He turned to look up at Malfoy. “Would you mind letting Ron and Hermione know? And... um... filling them in?” 

“Of course,” said Malfoy with a nod. 

Harry turned back to the healers and his Head of House. “Okay. Let’s do this.” 

 

 

 

Ron stood over Harry’s bed, watching his friend sleep. There were lines of pain around his eyes, and his face was pale, but for the first time since he’d known Harry, he wasn’t curled in a protective ball in the bed. 

“How could anyone have done all that to a little kid?” he asked softly. “He was just a kid. Just a _baby_. How can someone look at a _baby_ and... decide to hate him?” 

Malfoy’s mouth took a bitter twist and he leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “Hate is a strange thing, Weasley,” he said, keeping his voice low. “It twists and corrodes, eating at a person until it turns them into something unrecognizable. It takes human kindness and turns it into neglect. It takes intelligence and turns it into depravity. And it takes friends, and turns them into enemies.” He looked up at Ron, his grey eyes carefully blank. “Hate ruins lives, Weasley. Never forget that.” 

“Yeah, I won’t,” said Ron, finally understanding how close to the edge he’d been skating. “I won’t.” 

“Good,” said Malfoy, and he looked back at Harry, who had stirred restlessly for a moment before settling into a deeper sleep. “I’m appalled at what was allowed to be done to him.” 

“Mum will go ballistic when she finds out,” Ron said, hoping he wouldn’t be the one to deliver the news. 

“Potter was specific in who he wanted informed,” said Malfoy, not looking up. “He was rather pointed, in fact, that he did _not_ want your mother told any specifics. That’s why Madame Pomfrey required the oath from you. It’ll keep you from telling your mother anything other than Harry needed to be treated for malnutrition, magical damage, and exhaustion. All of which could be explained by the last year and a half.” 

“Yeah,” said Ron, not convinced. “Hermione’s already in the library, researching everything she can find out about child welfare and advocacy, and something she calls a... statue of limits?” 

“Statute of limitations,” said Malfoy. “They don’t really exist in the magical world.” 

“Well, you know Hermione. She’ll keep digging until she finds something,” Ron said staunchly. He looked back at Malfoy. “Can I ask you something?” 

Malfoy looked up. “Go ahead.” 

Ron grimaced, then tried to think of a good way to ask his question. There really wasn’t one, so he just blurted it out. “What made you help Harry that night?” 

Eyebrows up with surprise, Malfoy leaned back in his chair, considering Ron for a long moment before he answered. “Well... I was tired of not being in the know. And tired of having him angry at me all the time. I wanted to be his _friend_. I wanted him to... to just... _notice_ me, and I was tired of having to piss him off to accomplish it. And... I was curious about those... _remedial potions_ lessons he was having with Professor Snape, so... I was waiting near the classroom, hoping to find out something. I couldn’t hear anything, but I could see occasional flashes of light from under the door. And sometimes, the door shook. When it opened and Potter came out, he looked... completely wrecked. And sick. And when I peeked in the door, Uncle Severus didn’t look much better. When I was going back to the stairs, I heard someone being sick and went to see, and there he was, throwing up for all he was worth. And I had to help him.” 

“See, that’s what I don’t get,” said Ron almost eagerly, though he remembered to keep his voice down. “Normally, you’d have make fun of him, taunted him about his weakness or something.” 

Malfoy smiled ruefully. “Yeah, I would have. But at that moment, I just... couldn’t do it any more. He looked awful, and I just... it was _wrong_. I had to fix it. I had to do _something_ , and I didn’t want to be the spoiled child any more. Plus, I had a problem and I saw Potter as a way to solve it.” 

“Your mum,” said Ron, and Malfoy nodded. 

“My father was... not himself. And it was getting more and more dangerous for Mother. I couldn’t let her be hurt anymore, and I knew any chance of getting her away from it had to lay with Potter. I didn’t think Dumbledore would listen to me, at least not without requiring something of me that I had no intentions of doing.” He shuddered expressively. 

“Getting the Dark Mark?” Ron looked at the smooth unblemished skin of Malfoy’s forearms, exposed when he’d rolled up his sleeves earlier. 

“Yeah,” said Malfoy. “I saw what it had done and was doing to my father, and I knew what Dumbledore had asked of my godfather. I had a suspicion that if I went to Dumbledore for help, he’d ask it of me, too. And I didn’t want anything of that monster in my head!” 

“I don’t blame you, mate,” said Ron in heartfelt tones. He looked back at Harry. “How are we going to get him through this?” 

“We’ll be there for him, Weasley,” said Malfoy with a determination Ron usually associated with Hermione. “We’ll listen to him, we’ll kick his arse when he needs it, and we’ll hug him, as revolting as that is, when appropriate. In other words,” and he met Ron’s eyes squarely, “we’ll be his friends.” 

“Yeah,” said Ron, holding out a hand. “His friends.” 

Malfoy hesitated, then took it, his grip firming. “His friends.” 

 


	6. “Like a gust of wind, you push me back every once in a while…”

 

“You know, you could just come stay with me, pup,” said Sirius, sounding amused as he watched his godson pacing restlessly by the window of his dorm room.

Harry looked back at him dubiously.  “In Grimmauld Place?  Are you kidding?  I think I’ve had my fill of that creaky old ruin, no offense.” 

Sirius watched the shudder work up the thin back and sighed inwardly.  “Harry, you don’t think Grimmauld Place is where I would live if I had a choice, do you?”  He snorted at the surprised look Harry shot him over his shoulder, then laughed when Harry frowned.  “Oh, Harry… the only reason, the only reason I stayed at Grimmauld Place at all was for you.  It was the only way Dumbledore would allow me to see you!  The bloody wanker wouldn’t let me open up the house in Hogsmeade that Great Uncle Orion left me when he died.  Orion was sort of a family rebel, and I was his favorite.  It’s a beautiful house, even more secure than Grimmauld Place, but I would never have let the Order meet there, and Dumbledore knew that.”  He sighed when Harry’s eyes blazed.  “I know, pup, but… some instinct told me that… I should never let anyone I didn’t trust implicitly inside the wards at Padfoot’s Rest.  Where do you think I was hiding during your third year?” he asked as he laid his hands on Harry’s shoulders, not liking the sudden pallor in his godson’s face. 

“I… I thought you were hiding in the Shrieking Shack,” Harry said almost soundlessly. 

“No,” said Sirius, frowning and wondering what the hell had just happened.  “That’s where I would meet Crookshanks.  Harry, what is it?  What’s wrong?” 

“Why… why didn’t you tell me a-about the house in Hogsmeade?” Harry asked, shaking now. 

_Oh, hell! Put your foot in it this time, Padfoot_ , Sirius thought angrily.  “Harry,” he said, giving the teenager a gentle shake.  “I didn’t tell you about Padfoot’s Rest because I haven’t had a chance!  Every time I wanted to, someone else was there.  It was something I wanted to tell  _you_ , not you and whoever else was there, and that includes your friends.   It’ll be  _your_ refuge one day, and  _your choice_ who you let in on the secret of it.” 

Harry nodded unsteadily, and Sirius caught his chin firmly, forcing Harry to look up at him.  “I trust you, Harry.  Implicitly.  You’re my child, and gods, I wish I had never let my temper get away with me and gone after Peter, because if I hadn’t, you’d have had a stable home!  I can never, ever make that up to you, Harry, but I swear… _I swear_ , I’m here for you.  I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, to back you up, to be worthy of you!  Do you understand me?” 

The bright green eyes studied his for a long moment, seeming to search his very soul, and Sirius almost held his breath, hoping they wouldn’t find him lacking.  The next thing he knew, he was having trouble breathing as wiry arms wrapped tightly around him, Harry’s head tucked under his chin, and Sirius relaxed with a relieved sigh, wrapping his own arms around his godson and holding him.  “We’ll find our way, Harry,” he said softly into the wild hair.  “We’ll find our way…” 

“Just… don’t do anything stupid, okay?” he heard Harry say and Sirius smiled. 

“Do my best, pup,” he said, trying not to laugh.  “Now, how about I introduce you to the wards at Padfoot’s Rest?” 

Harry leaned back and grinned up at him.  “I think that would be brilliant.” 

 

 

 

The funeral for Percy Weasley was held on a Thursday. 

“As much of a knob as Percy could be,” Fred Weasley said to Harry as they stood near the table of food that had been set up in the Great Hall for the refreshment of mourners, “he went out with a joke.” 

“A really good joke, too,” said George as he slipped a hand onto his twin’s shoulder. 

Fred snorted, his eyes red as he stared down into his cup.  “The wanker finally made a decent joke, and then he had to go and die.” 

“But he saved you, Gred,” said George, giving Fred a shake.  “I can forgive him anything and everything… because he saved you.” 

Harry became a little uncomfortable as the two men stared into each other’s eyes and the silence grew.  Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “I’m just gonna go…” 

“Uncomfortable, Harry?” Fred asked, giving him a sharp look. 

Harry grimaced.  “Look, I… feel like I’m… intruding…” 

“You know,” George said suddenly, “people sometimes don’t really get what being twins means.” 

“Yeah,” said Fred, wiping at his eyes for a moment before focusing on Harry again.  “They just see that we look alike and…” 

“Sometimes finish each other’s sentences,” added George.  “But they don’t really get what it means…” 

“We shared a womb,” said Fred, his red eyes intent on Harry. 

George nodded.  “We grew together, wrapped around each other in that tight space.  From the moment we were conceived…” 

“We’ve never been alone.”  Fred pressed close to George.  “They couldn’t keep us apart even when we were babies.” 

“Mum only had the one crib,” said George, slipping his arm around Fred now, as if neither of them could bear to be apart from the other.  “So we slept together.” 

“He’s always been there, even when he’s mad at me,” said Fred, nudging his twin with an elbow. 

“And he’s always there, whether I like him or not,” said George with a snort. 

“But you can’t have us, one without the other,” they both said together, staring at Harry in that sometimes eerie way of theirs. 

“I believe you,” said Harry, because he couldn’t imagine Fred without George, or George without Fred.  “I think… I think Percy knew that, too.” 

“He used to watch us when we were little,” said George sadly.  “We drove him mad, the things we did.” 

“The trouble we got into,” said Fred.  “He always got us out, though.  Least, he did until school.” 

“Well, until he got Prefect, you mean,” said George.  He looked over to where his parents were listening politely to an elderly witch who had fast hold of their mother’s hand.  “Guess… guess he was taking care of us this one last time, then.” 

“Yeah,” said Fred, and they leaned into each other, making a soft, mournful sound. 

A throat cleared behind Harry and he turned, prepared to step back and let whoever it was give their condolences to the twins.  Besides, he wanted to be well out of firing range if whoever it was offended the twins and got hit with a WWW product. 

It was Mr. Penderwick.  “You are an extraordinarily hard man to get a hold of, Mr. Potter,” he said smoothly.  “Have you received none of my owls?” 

“Any owls addressed to me are routed through Gringotts and sent on to my solicitor if the goblins feel they bear legal action,” said Harry calmly, though he shot a quick eye around the Great Hall to see who was nearest.  “Correspondence comes to me, and letters regarding the Ministry are sent either to my godfather or my solicitor.” 

Sirius caught his glance and started moving his way. 

“Your… _godfather?_ ” Penderwick’s eyes widened with surprise and a small amount of alarm.  “The _criminal_ , Sirius Black?” 

“Who was exonerated after the capture and trial of Peter Pettigrew after the debacle at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament during my godson’s fourth year,” said Sirius smoothly as he came to Harry’s side, nodding to the twins who came to bracket them.  “You  _do_  read the interdepartmental memos, do you not, Theophilus?” 

Theophilus Penderwick scowled and pulled a roll of parchment out of his robes, holding it out toward Harry.  When Harry merely looked at it mildly before staring back at Penderwick, the man exclaimed with exasperation.  “This is a summons to the Department of Mysteries!  You must take it and obey its directives!” 

Sirius flicked out his wand and cast a few charms at it.  When it glowed purple, he frowned at the Unspeakable.  “A compulsion hex?”  He drew himself up, eyes crackling with fury.  “You cast a compulsion hex on a scroll you were going to give to my godson?” 

“He’s been ignoring us!” Penderwick shouted, and the Great Hall went silent. 

Minerva McGonagall advanced on them silently.  “I believe the missive I sent to the Head of the Unspeakables made it  _explicitly_ clear that no one from your department, you especially, were welcome on Hogwarts’ grounds, Mr. Penderwick.” 

“Professor McGonagall, surely you understand, the boy has refused to…” Penderwick began, but stopped when he found Minerva’s wand aimed at the tip of his nose. 

“I understand that you are trespassing, Unspeakable Penderwick,” she said in harsh, dangerous tones.  “I understand that if you do not remove yourself from these grounds this instant I will be transfiguring you into a nice… fat… mouse just before I transform into a cat and  _POUNCE!_ ” 

The little man emitted a terrified squeak and Disapparated with a bang. 

“How unfortunate,” Minerva said with a smirk as she looked down at the floor.  “He appears to have Splinched himself.” 

Harry looked down and saw what looked like a wig on the floor.  Only the smears of blood revealed that the man had left his hair, scalp and all, behind.  He looked back up at his Transfiguration teacher with deep respect.  “Professor,” he said almost shakily.  “Remind me to never, ever,  _ever_  make you angry.” 

Her smile was sharp and mischievous.  “Oh, Mr. Potter,” she said with amusement.  “That wasn’t angry.  That was just me being… a wee  _protective_.” 

As Harry shuddered, Sirius slipped an arm around him and beamed at the Deputy Headmistress.  “Thank you, Minerva.  I think, though, that this proves we’re going to have a bit of a problem until things are more settled at the Ministry.  We should probably get Harry out of the country for a while.” 

Harry started to open his mouth to protest, but McGonagall shut him up with a look before turning back to Sirius.  “I do believe there is a tradition known as a ‘gap year?’  Among Muggles?” 

“It’s certainly something to consider,” said Sirius. 

Molly arrived, Arthur in tow, demanding to know what had just happened, and Harry was left watching his godfather argue it out with the Weasley matriarch while he contemplated just how to get himself out of this mess. 

 

 

 

  “Well, the first thing is to find out precisely what it is they want,” said Hermione earnestly. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ron asked as he hovered protectively by Harry, as if he could prevent the entire Ministry from coming after Harry with his mere presence.  “They either want to find some way to control Harry to prevent him from becoming the next Dark Lord or to set themselves up in power, or they want to find out precisely how he defeated Voldemort.  Meaning they want to know about the you-know-whats.” 

Draco tapped his fingers on the table irritably.  “It’s entirely possible they want to examine Harry to find out just precisely how powerful he is and how much of a threat he is to the Ministry.  Or they want to know how a pureblood and a Muggleborn could produce such a powerful child.”  He shot a look over at Harry, who looked supremely irritated to be the subject of discussion. 

“Maybe they just want him for his scrawny little body,” said George with a smirk. 

Fred grinned.  “Yeah, Harry, Penderwick has a thing for small, skinny, undersized wizards with too much power for their own good.” 

Harry snorted, and threw a crumpled up ball of parchment at them.  “That’s not creepy at all,” he said. 

“We could be your bodyguards,” Fred said helpfully. 

“Cheers, Fred,” said Harry, and Draco gave an inward sigh of relief and a subtle nod toward George who merely raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement. 

Harry-wrangling was a complicated task. 

Neville cleared his throat.  “Right now, the Ministry is a disorganized mess.  We have no Minister, though I heard rumors that the Wizengamot… or at least what’s left of it, is going to ask Kingsley Shacklebolt to take that role.  The Aurors are still reorganizing, since so many of them were killed, and the Wizengamot is still assessing who was under _Imperius_ and who was acting of their own free will.”  He looked at Harry.  “I have a feeling the moment you leave Hogwart’s grounds, you’ll be at risk from both rogue Death Eaters who are still loose and whoever’s behind this thing with the Unspeakables.  You’ll have to be careful, Harry.” 

“Not only Harry,” said Draco, hating to have to say it, “but those closest to him that could be used against him.  To force him to do what they want.” 

He hated it when Harry slumped like that. 

“You know,” said Hermione thoughtfully, “instead of reacting _defensively_ to all of this, perhaps we should start acting…  _offensively_.” 

“You want us to offend people, Hermione?” said Ron, sounding shocked. 

Hermione met Draco’s eyes and rolled hers expressively, almost making the blond laugh.  “No, Ron,” she said repressively.  “I mean, instead of waiting for whoever this is to make a move, maybe we should move preemptively to… oh… Ronald,” she said when his face went blank. 

“Don’t dismiss his intelligence,” said George sharply.  He gestured at Ron’s now furrowed brow.  “You’re using chess language now and his brain just went into overdrive.  For the rest of you lot,” he said, nudging Fred, “she means, instead of waiting for the Unspeakables to grab Harry, we should cut them off at the knees.” 

Ron blinked and looked at Harry.  “We need to sacrifice a knight,” he said slowly.  “But we have to choose which knight very carefully.” 

As Hermione started to protest, Draco smirked.  “Weasley,” he said in a slow drawl, “I like the way you think.” 

 


	7. "Call it magic, call it true..."

 

 

“Hermione,” Neville called softly as he moved through the library.  He headed for the corner with the windows that looked out over the greenhouses and found her at a table, almost hidden behind a stack of books.  Hermione had four large tomes open in front of her, parchment stacked handily at one elbow, and she was frowning thoughtfully into one of the tomes, a finger moving down the page as she took notes.

Her hair had been pulled back into a braid, and there were smudges of ink along one cheek and her temple, where she’d obviously brushed back the errant locks that had escaped. 

Neville couldn’t help smiling affectionately as he stood at a discreet distance, watching her.  He’d rather missed Hermione over the last year, though he’d understood why she’d chosen to go with Harry.  In a way, it had been liberating for Neville not to have her there.  For years, she’d been there to help him with his homework when he needed it, or to give him advice about spells.  She never made him feel stupid or useless for not knowing things or picking it up as quickly as the others, and her quiet praise when he got things right had done more for his self-esteem than anything else in his life. 

Breaking his father’s wand had been the best thing to ever happen to him.  Up until the day he’d gotten his Hogwarts letter and his grandmother had to accept the fact that he was magical, Neville had been an independent little fellow.  The only child in a house full of elderly adults, Neville had had to find his own entertainments and spent a great deal of time either in the library, where he’d pour over the Longbottom family grimoires and histories, or out in the gardens with his grandmother’s gardening house elf.  It had been old Tibby who had recognized Neville’s green talent, and she’d encouraged it, teaching him about the plants in each of the gardens and greenhouses at Longbottom Manor, all the way up until the day Augusta had presented him with his father’s wand. 

After that, the magic that had flowed so easily from his hands to the soil became hard.  When he held Frank Longbottom’s wand in his hands, magic became difficult, and frustrating.  It fought him every time he held it, singing,  _wrong, wrong, wrong_ , in his head in an ever increasing refrain until he became convinced that it was saying  _he_  was wrong, not their connection. 

His only respite was Herbology class, where he could put his wand away and not even have it on him, and he could once again connect to the green magic that had flowed so easily for him in the garden, and he could have the joy of watching plants flourish under his touch. 

The day he’d walked into Ollivander’s shop and held the wand that replaced his father’s had been eye-opening.  As soon as it touched his hand, it was as if all the magic that had been suppressed and pushed down in his body suddenly surged up, singing with joy to be set free, and the  _Lumos!_  he had cast had nearly singed all the feathers off his grandmother’s vulture hat. 

Sixth year had been a bit of an adjustment period for him, but by the time seventh year had rolled around, with no triumverate of Potter, Weasley, and Granger to guide them, Neville realized it was up to him.  He’d had a quiet freak-out in his bed with the curtains pulled tightly closed, and then the next day, tight lipped and pale, he’d shown his classmates how to stand up to their new, brutal teachers.  He’d shown them protecting their half-blood and Muggleborn classmates was not only the right thing to do, but their duty. 

He discovered what courage truly was, that it wasn’t about not being scared.  It was about being scared, but doing what needed to be done in spite of it. 

“Neville?  Were you looking for me?” 

Neville blinked and realized Hermione was standing right in front of him, arms crossed, a slightly amused look on her face.  “Hermione!” It was rather startling to realize that Hermione was now a very attractive and pretty witch. 

“That would be me, yes,” she said, mischief dancing in her eyes. 

Neville blinked and took in a deep breath to settle his nerves, then smiled.  “You’re right, I am looking for you.   I was just… remembering a few things.”  He gestured back at the table she’d been at.  “Shall we sit?” 

Hermione looked surprised, but went back to sit down, picking up her quill and looking at him expectantly. 

“Hermione,” he began slowly, “I just wanted to ask, do you think something’s a little off with Ginny?” 

“Off?”  Hermione frowned.  “It’s hard to tell, she’s been like this ever since I’ve known her, Neville.” 

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Neville said.  “It’s just… I’ve known her since we were small.  Not well, mind you, because I only saw them infrequently, but last year, while you, Harry, and Ron were gone, Ginny and I were thrown together a lot.  We worked hard to keep the D.A. going, and to act against the Death Eaters in our school.  And it was odd, but she’d say the strangest things like…  _Harry would definitely approve of this,_  or  _Harry has to pay attention to me now that I’ve done this for him_.  It was strange.” 

“I see,” said Hermione slowly.  “And you think this is odd?  Because she’s apparently been gone on Harry for a while.” 

“Not like she was after her first year,” said Neville grimly.  “Look, I think that diary did something to her head.  It… changed her, or maybe even damaged her.  She’s… fixated on Harry, but in a really scary sort of way.” 

Hermione tilted her head to one side, then sighed.  “Yeah, I… I know.  I mean, at first, I was sharing a room with her and Luna, but then, Luna came to me and said it was probably best we not all share.  And I do get it.  I mean, the night before that, I woke up to find Ginny standing over me, staring at me.  It was… _creepy._ ”  She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“Did she say anything to you?” Neville asked, concerned. 

“No,” said Hermione shakily.  “She just… _stared_ at me.  I spoke to her, calling her name, but… she never said a thing.  Just… turned and slowly went back to her bed.”  She frowned.  “Do you know, Neville, I… I think you’re the first person I’ve told about that since it happened!” 

Neville shook his head.  “I think we need to tell Harry,” he began, but Hermione shook her head. 

“Neville, the _last_ thing he needs to worry about right now is Ginny,” she said, almost sounding like her bossy old self, and that made Neville frown.  Hermione noticed, and faltered, looking up at him with concern.  “What?” 

“And you’d improved so much,” he couldn’t help saying chidingly.  When she looked puzzled, Neville reached to take one of her ink-blotched hands in his.  “The last thing Harry needs right now is _secrets_ ,” Neville said firmly.  “He needs to know about anything that could affect him, and we owe it to him to give him all the information he needs to make his own decisions.  If we hide something _this important_ from him, it’ll make us no better than Dumbledore.” 

He didn’t like the hurt look that wrinkled Hermione’s brow, but she needed to hear it. 

“But… Ginny _loves_ him!” Hermione protested. 

And that was a problem of a different sort.  “Hermione, what is the definition of love?” 

Her mouth fell open.  “Neville…” 

“If you can’t define it,” he said decidedly, “then you have no criteria with which to recognize it, whether it’s in yourself or someone else.” 

“Neville,” she said again, and this time, she looked oddly impressed.  “That’s… quite intelligent.” 

“I was never stupid, Hermione,” Neville said patiently, just managing to not sound offended.  “I was just scared and frustrated.” 

Her mouth fell open in horror. “Neville!” Hermione said, aghast.  “I  _never_  thought you were stupid!  Frustrating at times, yes, but never stupid!” 

“So,” he said to divert her.  “What’s that definition?” 

“Well,” said Hermione slowly, “I think love is when you care deeply about someone, and you’re mutually compatible, and you care about and do the same things.” 

“That sounds more like friendship,” said Neville. 

Hermione huffed.  “Well then.  What’s your definition?” she asked with some asperity. 

Neville chuckled to hear her so tart and more like herself.  “I found some books that had belonged to my dad, Muggle books he’d read when he was a young man, and one of them absolutely fascinated me.  I read it over and over again, trying to understand it, and I was a little disappointed to find out Muggles weren’t quite like the ones in that book.  It’s by a Muggle named Robert Heinlein, _Stranger in a Strange Land_ , you should read it.” 

Her eyes were wide.  “You’ve read  _Heinlein?_   But that’s… _science fiction!_   It’s… it’s…” 

“A very good book,” said Neville mildly, amused to discover that there were apparently some books that Hermione _wouldn’t_ read.  “Anyhow, he defines love in that book, and I always thought that definition was perfect.  One of the characters, this wise old man, says, _Love is that condition where the happiness and welfare of another person are essential to your own._   And it seems to me that it would be the same for the other person, too, that your happiness and welfare would be essential to their own, too. “ 

She was staring at him in wonder, and he wasn’t sure if he should be happy or insulted. 

“Neville,” Hermione said quietly, her dark eyes studying him intently, “it’s like I’m seeing you for the very first time.” 

His cheeks grew hot.  “I’ve always been here, Hermione.  Just as I am.  You’re just very slow at noticing.” 

The swat to the back of his head was thoroughly deserved.  And he didn’t begrudge her it one bit.  

 

 

 

  Harry grimaced as he listened to Hermione’s story, and Neville’s observations. 

“I spent a lot of time thinking about Ginny while we were on the run,” he said slowly, looking from Neville to Hermione, and then to Malfoy.  “Mostly, I was trying to figure out why my feelings, which had been so intense while we were at school, were fading so quickly.” 

“Fading?” asked Hermione, clearly shocked. 

“Yes,” said Harry.  “Every time I tried to imagine kissing her, I’d feel… a little sick.    I realized it was… too much like kissing my own sister.”  He shuddered. 

Neville snorted while Hermione was clearly scandalized.  “Harry!  She was your _girlfriend_ last year!” 

“Yes, and you know, it’s funny,” said Harry quietly.  “I never even thought of her that way until last year.  I wasn’t even  _interested_  in her until last year.  Don’t you find that a little… _odd?_ ” 

Hermione shot a quick look at Neville, who said nothing, watching Harry quietly and keeping his thoughts to himself, which Harry appreciated.  “I… I’m not sure what you mean, Harry,” she said slowly.  “You… you just… matured a little slower…” 

Harry loved her, he really did, but sometimes, she truly tried his patience.  “Hermione, really?  Is that the best you can do?” 

“Harry…” 

“Hermione, what potion did Professor Slughorn introduce us to sixth year?” Harry asked carefully.   “What one potion did he teach us that could account for my suddenly developing feelings for Ginny Weasley that I’d never shown before?  Stop thinking with your emotions, Hermione.  Use that keen intellect of yours to…slice through the sentiment that seems to be clouding your judgement and  _think!_ ” 

He watched her eyes widen with hurt at his rough tone, but they also sharpened just as he’d intended.  Hermione frowned, then said, “Why, Harry?  Why would Ginny potion you?” 

Neville sighed, looking toward Harry, and Harry nodded at him, gesturing for him to go ahead. 

“The Potter estate is quite… large, Hermione,” Neville said after a moment.  “And Harry wasn’t responding to her quite the way she’d wanted.  She needed something  more concrete than just being a friend to Harry Potter.” 

“More… concrete?” 

“She needed a commitment,” said Neville calmly.  “She needed Harry to fall in love with her. Visibly and in front of as many witnesses as possible.” 

“I just… that just doesn’t _sound_ like Ginny,” said Hermione.  “Besides, I had told her…” and she faltered, blushing. 

Harry smiled sadly.  “Yeah.  You told her to make me jealous, but it wasn’t working at first,” Harry said.  “I was sort of oblivious to it.  Until after she started dosing me with _Amortencia_ , and even with that, I was just jealous, but I didn’t do anything about it.  _Ginny_ still had to make the first move!” 

Hermione blinked.  “She did, didn’t she?  She’s the one who went to you and kissed _you_ , not the other way around…” 

“Yeah,” said Harry.  “And she was very understanding about my needing to break up with her for her sake before school ended, but… she wasn’t happy about us going off without her.” 

“No, she wasn’t.” Neville shrugged when they turned to stare at him.  “All year, she mainly fretted that Harry would fall in love with  _you_ , Hermione, and that when the war was over, he’d announce his engagement to you.” 

“You also have to understand, Granger,” said Malfoy, speaking up for the first time, “when Miss Weasley’s mother married Arthur Weasley, she was taking a step down.  Granted, the Weasleys are an old, honorable house, and for the most part, they’re quite wealthy.” 

Hermione frowned.  “Wealthy?  But… Mr. Weasley…” 

“Was disowned by the family Matriarch for defying his father in marrying Molly Prewitt,” finished Malfoy, sharing a look with Neville.  “The Prewitts were also a good family, but their daughter was considered too strong-willed and not quite what William Weasley wanted for his son.  He felt that Arthur’s will would be completely sublimated by Molly’s, and didn’t consider them a good match at all.” 

“But Mr. Weasley wouldn’t listen and he ran off to marry Molly Prewitt anyway,” said Neville.  “They tried to make amends by naming their first born son after Arthur’s father, but to this day, really, only half the family will talk to them.  And Mrs. Weasley’s own parents disowned her as well.  All the money that should have come to her when her mother died went instead to some cousins.  The only thing she inherited was the land where the Burrow stands.” 

Hermione’s mouth dropped open in shock.  “That’s… horrible!” she said indignantly.  “How could they _do_ such a thing!  I mean, look at them now!  They’re still so in love, and they’ve had _seven children!_ ” 

“You have no idea how unusual that is with magical couples, Hermione,” said Neville.  “Infertility isn’t the only reason most magical families only have one or two children.  Each parent also gives a bit of their magic to their children, just enough until a child is strong enough to channel their own magic.  And they don’t get it back.  Most people can only give up enough magic for one or two children before they risk making themselves into Squibs.” 

“But, the Weasleys…” 

“When was the last time you ever saw either Arthur or Molly Weasley cast anything stronger than a basic house-hold charm, or a summoning charm?” Malfoy asked.  He shook his head when Hermione looked surprised.  “They can’t even cast wards on their own home, Hermione.  They’ve stretched their magic so thin, they’re barely stronger than second year students.” 

Hermione looked at Harry, then back at Neville and Malfoy.  “So… what does this have to do with Ginny and Harry?” she asked in a small voice. 

“Potter’s extremely powerful magically,” said Neville frankly.  “Marrying him to their daughter would strengthen their family magical pool, and he might be able to bolster her magic enough to have at least three children before causing any damage to his own magic.” 

“Plus, his money would help with the family debt between Arthur and his Matriarch,” said Malfoy.  “Their best chance of survival, especially for their children, is through Harry.”  He fixed his stormy eyes on Hermione.  “And, possibly, through you.” 

“Through _me??_ ” said Hermione, floored.  “What do you mean, me??  I’m a Muggleborn!” 

“Yes,” said Malfoy.  “A brilliant, and extremely powerful Muggleborn.  You’d be a boon to any house you joined with, and a definite feather in the Weasley cap if Ron managed to convince you to marry him.” 

The horror on her face made Harry start laughing, which eased the tension between the four teens.  “You  _did_  snog him in front of Merlin and everyone, all those basilisk fangs in your arms,” he said teasingly. 

“I have no idea why I did that,” she said blushing furiously.  “Heat of the moment, I guess.  Though really, I… I don’t see Ron that way.  I  _want_  to, but I don’t.” 

“Why do you want to?” asked Malfoy, tilting his head as he studied her, and Harry had to wonder what the Slytherin was thinking.  “Really?  I mean, you either do or you don’t, so… why are you trying to force yourself?” 

“I… I don’t know,” said Hermione slowly, dark brows drawing down into a frown.  “It’s as if there’s this little voice in my head, telling me I should like Ron, I should like him very much, because he was my first friend and… and… this is giving me a headache,” she said suddenly, lifting a hand to her head. 

Harry met Malfoy and Neville’s concerned eyes.  “Right.  To the Hospital Wing?” 

“The Hospital Wing,” they agreed, and helped Hermione to her feet. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm posting again. It will be a slow thing, though, I'm afraid, as I work at recovering files. Some won't open, and that's a headache, as you can imagine. This one, though, I have with thanks to the lovely star_falling, who saved a copy and sent it to me through a mutual friend. Thank you so very much!!!


End file.
